5 - Enemies

I hate weakness, most especially in myself. The world thinks I am the epitome of swag, unable to feel fear or doubt. That was a far cry from the truth. It took effort, real effort, to walk into the board room each and every time, looking as if I owned the world. It was an act, one that I had become very good at faking. Some call this bravery, I call it theatrical talent. It primarily involved shoving my doubts down into a deep, dark pit, only to be unearthed later, in privacy, with no one to share them with but my wife.

She… she is a far stronger person than I. A better trainer, too. It's a wonder I have this job and she doesn't- although that might be because I simply have more patience for the greed and stupidity that permeates bureaucracy. Still, I wish she was here, by my side, someone I could trust and lean on. I can handle having enemies (six or seven of them in this very room), but that doesn't mean I enjoy the hostilities.

"Good afternoon!"

Fake smile, practiced confidence. Most of them bought it, except, predictably, Gabriel Brach. He wore the un-amused expression that typically graces the Feraligatr species.

Surrounding him were the other fourteen members of the board, as well as another twenty or so senior officers of the Pokémon League. I took my place at the head of the long, mahogany table. Carol prepared the wall-encompassing view screen and then took her place dutifully behind me. Eyes bore down on me like court justices.

"First of all, my sincere apologies for pushing the meeting till after lunch. I realize many of you have busy schedules and this shuffle may have interrupted your work. However, I felt that it was a necessity to ensure the best outcome for the Pokémon League."

"A necessity?" Gabriel wasted no time in interrupting. "Considering that the prime agenda of this meeting was discussion of the upcoming TV contract negotiations, and that you have already concluded those negotiations on your own initiative, I fail to see why this meeting is necessary at all, Mr. Stone." Brach's pen snapped against the surface of the table.

"The agenda hasn't changed." I tapped the compad, bringing a hastily-built (thank you Leto) power-point slide onto the main screen. "We can still cover the TV contract, but in a more positive light. Our revenue intake increased by - standby," as I moused over the data sheet to highlight the bottom line- "14%. Roughly 112 billion pokedollars. With that projection, we have enough to cover our debt, overhead, baseline budget, and outstanding expenses, with a remainder of 56 billion for growth."

I paused, hoping for surprise, shock, or applause. None was forthcoming. Figures. These men are typical stonehearted pricks, not even the promise of an immense windfall is enough to get them excited. Besides, it's very likely they've already seen and digested the new number. It was too much to ask for a "that-a-boy, Stone!" from them.

"In lieu of this, I suggest we focus on the budget."

That is exactly what happened, and for the first two hours it went surprisingly smoothly. 65% of our budget were fixed expenses: debt and interest payments (thankfully low), worker's salaries, taxes, facility maintenance, pensions, the like. The other 35% was divided and categorized according to priority; this list included wildlife programs, gym support, safety protocols, event sponsorship, tournament hosting, compliance personnel… basically a million individual items spread across two dozen agencies. Fortunately, most of these had a preset position in our priority scheme. Meaning, the afternoon was largely spent going down our list and saying, yes, this particular event is worthy of the #182 spot and gets to keep current funding levels for this year. Objections were few and far between. Of those, all were rejected that were expected to be rejected, and the three questionable items on the list were, also as expected, nicked from the list. The idea was to go down the list, and when we ran out of money, everything below that line would be cut or floated (meaning more debt). That's usually when the fighting begins- businessmen who suddenly realize their pet projects are on the edge and arguing for greater priority, or begging for loans to keep them afloat.

Today, due to the TV contract, we had a different fight on our hands. The League does not function like any other enterprise I had worked for. Governments and corporations, when faced with the enviable position of having surplus funds, have simple and straightforward methods of divesting themselves. Governments give tax rebates, and businesses pay dividends to their stockholders. The Pokémon League, being neither a for-profit enterprise, nor a government-held company, has to actually spend any additional funds it comes by. This becomes difficult when thirty different men have thirty different ideas about what needs fixing in the League and how to spend that money.

The arguments were… heated.

"We've already bookmarked increases for the Judiciary and Policing agencies. I-"

"In what amounts? Unless it's better than the 6.5% I last saw one hour ago, it's hardly enough. You've purposefully let the Policing Department's budget lag." Brach arguing against me, as usual.

"Its budget was super-inflated when I arrived."

"And you'll ignore reports of abuse and criminal neglect? Don't you think it is irresponsible to undercut the Policing Agency when the world is going mad?"

"The threats are exaggerated. When-"

"The Unovan League was assaulted! You call that exaggerated?!"

He's raising his voice against me. I don't like shouting matches. I try to keep my voice in a businesslike tone at all times, but it's difficult when Brach continues to cut me off.

"Brach, it's not the League's job to combat criminals! We're only here to aide-"

"It is our responsibility to oversee Pokémon regulations! If the criminals use Pokémon it becomes our job to stop them!"

"No, it is not!" Despite myself, I've been raising my voice to match his. "We will take more flak from the government by treading on their jurisdiction. We are-"

"Their juris-"

"WE ARE NOT the world's police force!" That little outburst silenced the rest of the table, as well as Brach. They stared at me and Gabriel, nervous, wondering if this personal feud would ever erupt into violence.

"I should have known where your sympathies lie when you came into this job," Brach muttered.

"Might I remind you that it was YOU who invited me to take the position. Throw me out if you like but think of the situation the League would be in without me," I fired at him.

"Easy, easy," one of the board members interjected, trying to calm the atmosphere.

Brach settled into his seat, eyes shifting left and right, looking for support. Some of the trustees nodded, some shifted, indicating they were taking my side. Still, 2/3 of them looked like they would rather get to business.

"Judiciary won't qualify for additional funds until they've done an internal audit, which they're past due for." Chief Accountant Brian directed this towards Brach. The chairman deflated upon hearing of the technicality.

He's given up, for the time being. I expect he'll campaign behind my back for the next month, and bring the issue back full force at our next meeting. It'll be difficult to convince the board that policing Human/Pokémon relations should not be a high priority for us. Given the governments' attitude towards us these past few years, allowing another criminal team to use Pokémon against the public would sink our reputation even further. Even if the cost of doing so might bankrupt us.

"I want to move on to another matter. Our Gym Leader system."

"What about it?" The board collectively raised their eyes.

I tensed. This may or may not go over well. "I want to invest 30 billion into the system over the next two years."

"30 billion?" Mutters bounced around the room.

"You're aware we've hit a major age gap in the trainers' ranks. Partly due to the baby boomers, partly due to an unusual dip in talent, we're lacking qualified middle-aged trainers to fill the gyms. The problem goes beyond the gyms, but we can't control that. We can help alleviate our own system."

"What's the concern?" someone asked.

"The Gym Leaders are a filter to entry for our regional tournaments and circuits. Allowing too many subpar candidates to qualify floods the system, produces chaos at the tourney sites, and poor matches that turn away audience members," explained Gloria, our Battling Department Chief Officer.

"Thank you, Gloria," I said. "In addition, the gyms were co-opted into our system a half-century ago. They were originally pillars of the community, providing support and services to the cities they're located in. They still do, in fact. I think that the job, beyond trainer vetting, that gyms and Gym Leaders do for us is a valuable public service that can't measured in dollars or statistics. Not to mention, any goodwill they generate transforms into goodwill for the League in general.

So! Allowing them to decay is not in our best interest. What I want to do is provide education, qualification, and general support to the youngest candidates for Gym Leader. I think we have a very, very talented generation of kids, but they won't reach their potential if we don't support them. In particular, I want to attract top talent to the gyms. This means, among other things, pay raises- and subsidized qualification and education regimes. PR campaigns to find up and coming trainers. There are bloody good trainers out there who can't afford a Gym Leader lifestyle on their own. I think a merit-based financial aide system would serve us well."

"Hold on there," Brach, again intervening.

"Brach, are you going to argue with Stone about this? No one wants another shouting match."

"What now? As board chairman I think I'm entitled to question Stone's approach," Brach argued.

"Considering the influx of funds thanks to Stone, I'd be more willing to give his ideas a shot."

"Do you have an agenda against the Gym Leaders, Brach?"

"We're past the judicial issue."

A chorus of annoyed reprisals sounded out against the chairman.

Glad to see some board members sticking up for me.

"I'm not questioning the value of the Gym Leader system, merely Stone's approach! I want to know why he's so dismissive of the current generation, and whether he even bothered to look into ways of improving the system as is! His approach has no indication of solving our modern day issues."

"You're right, Brach," I said. "It may be crass of me, but I and my staff have pretty much given up on trying to improve the system as is. We're willing to deal with a short-term fizzle if it means large gains further down the road. I'm gambling on creating a new wave of Gym Leaders that will become a pillar of strength within the Pokémon League for the next half-century."

The next half hour was spent going over my plan to rejuvenate the Gym Leader system. My arguments, in very simplistic terms, boiled down to "Youth = Good!". Brach, who questioned and criticized me on every point, could be reduced to a brainless Chatot spouting "Youth = Hooligans!" ad nauseum.

It's not like he could stop me from executing this program. He has no day-to-day power, whatsoever. If he did, there would be no need for a Chief Executive Officer. Still, he is the deciding vote in a tie on overarching matters the board is in charge of (like whether to keep me as CEO), and he has the power to veto certain decisions (like signing off on large loans, which this Gym Leader project is sure to need down the road). I have to play nicely. There were times when I had to compromise, or give up altogether. Right now looked like one of those times, as Brach was hung up on one particular sore point.

"I want to reduce the qualification requirements on new and current Gym Leaders," I offered.

"Why?"

"Potential Gym Leaders find the requirements onerous. We'll dissuade talent if we constantly hold them to impossible standards."

"You- how do you expect to make sure those trainers are talented in the first place without quality control?" He looks miffed.

"It's a matter of details. I think we need to tune the job assessments softer."

"They are fine as is."

"As-is?" I brought up a new page on the power point.

"Look at this list. Eighty-six requirements for attaining Gym Leader status. Seventy-five different ways to incur probation. Probation has been receiving many complaints recently. Leaders are saying it is unfairly and arbitrarily handed out, and the terms are harsh. 50% win ratios, per trainer, to keep one's Gym Leader license."

"Per trainer?" Brian asked, puzzled.

"Gym Leader win ratios are determined by the ratio of how many trainers win their badge versus how many attempt to earn their badge. A single victory for the challenger negates multiple defeats. It's harsher than simply counting straight wins and losses," explained Gloria.

"It's the primary performance indicator. Leaders are unhappy that the minimum is set so high, and that no other factors are taken into consideration. The trend amongst them is to take additional challengers, broadening their opponent base, which has the effect of giving the leaders more easy wins to artificially inflate their ratios. The leaders hate doing this: they say it's dishonorable and creates a heavy workload. These problems are only magnified with the additional burdens of probation. They'd rather have us go to an ELO-ratings system than continue with the per trainer win ratio."

"They know the terms coming in." Brach grimaced. "Allowing the screw-ups a second chance is generous enough, it should be expected they'd be held to a high standard if they want to retain their Gym Leadership."

"It's driving away talent," I argued.

"If they were talented, they would easily be able to avoid probation and meet the requirements," Brach countered. "As for ELO, that would necessitate registering every trainer into a centralized database- something you yourself have aggressively fought against."

"Yes, but-"

We bantered back and forth, back and forth, attempting to find a fixture of weakness, looking for flaws in the other's arguments and leverage in our own.

The current situation was this: Gym Leaders were required to attend a yearly summit and take exams in order to retain their Gym Leader title. This policy was enacted during the previous administration, to vet Gym Leaders. It was supposed to make sure only the strongest and most loyal leaders survived. During the Rocket debacle, our strongest Gym Leaders had sided with the Rockets, and the loyal ones had proved weak or incompetent. Thus the need to prove themselves via exams.

If the Gym Leaders flunked, they were either forced out, or in lesser cases, put on probation. Probation victims had to abide by strict guidelines for a 4-to-12 month period in order to keep their job. Many Gym Leaders were arguing, however, that it was far too easy to flunk the exams, and the probation terms were far too strict, thus culling perfectly fine Gym Leaders from the ranks.

"50% win ratios are too demanding. Historically, Gym Leaders only manage a 35% ratio, average. We've lost more good Gym Leaders to probation than to retirement the last year."

"That's not true. Don't spittle biased, fairy-born data at me. There were more than 150 Gym Leaders retiring last year-"

I swiveled in place, accessing the power point again. The relevant data popped up- 112 retirees, 136 probation-failures. Having proven my statement, I allowed Brach a moment to feel dumb. He slowly brought his fist to the table.

"It doesn't change the necessity of keeping high standards. If we don't hold our own to high standards, the League will become a pushover."

"It's onerous, and creating fear. We should at least reduce the 50% to something reasonable."

"Only for those in good standing," Brach conceded. "Say, 15%."

"And those on probation? 50% is…"

"No compromise. Trim say-" and Brach used a digital pen on the power-point to cross out one-third of the probation-incurring offenses. "-these out, but leave the restrictions. Any Gym Leader who's up to the task should be able to avoid probation now."

"You're suggesting we make it easier to pass the exams, but still keep prohibitive measures if they land in probation?"

"Lower the bar, but make the bar out of barb wire," Gloria offered as analogy.

"Precisely."

Ack! It seems the board is nodding along with this. I could still see ways in which Gym Leaders would get caught in probation unfairly. The battle-portion of the exams were not scaled well enough- if one unfortunate soul got a powerful opponent, say, you would get lower marks than what you might have otherwise earned against even competition.

Still, it didn't look like Brach was going to budge.

In the end, the strict Gym Leader qualifications were mostly left intact. That was the compromise I had to offer in order to get my youth investment project funded. Maybe, one day, when Brach retires, I can actually get things done.

Hmm.

I looked Gabriel Brach up and down. For a seventy-something geezer with a pot-belly and balding knob of a head, he's actually looking spry and energetic. He's got nerves like a live-wire, and a stubborn streak that extends to his health. He might not retire this decade. Which is a travesty, in terms of what I want to do with the Pokémon League. I didn't plan to stay in this job that long, unless I absolutely had to. If only he would catch a minor stroke or something equally debilitating!

Brach was a relic of a bygone era. He had appointed me League CEO, but only when the situation had become untenable and the rest of the board was grouching for him to do so. From the day I took office he's been a naysayer and conflict-brewer.

How had it come to this?

You could say it was Goodshow's fault.

Seven years ago, Mr. Goodshow had been CEO of the League. He was a well-loved man, famous for darn well everything and adored by the public. Unfortunately, he was also a naïve man. He was overly generous, both to his associates, random strangers, and with the League's budget. Numerous public welfare projects put the League into massive debt. He was blind to corruption in his close friends, who took advantage of his kind, grandfatherly nature and hands-off CEO-style to run their departments like tyrants. No less than six agency heads were later arrested for bribery, fraud, larceny, and abuse of power.

Tournament trainers would complain of Goodshow's favoritism. They claimed he gave too much benefit of the doubt, leniency, and easy chances to trainers he had met personally. As one example, when a technicality created a tie in the Kanto League Championship, Goodshow awarded the title to the trainer he claimed had more "compassion" for his Pokémon.

All this created an atmosphere of chaos and decay in the Pokémon League. Even as the League's excesses needed to be reigned in, the old man grew senile, and refused to do anything about it.

Team Rocket attempted to use the chaos to their advantage. They convinced a large number of Gym Leaders, officers, and trainers to join them in an attempt to overthrow the Pokémon League and install themselves as the new League. They failed, barely, and only because their leader was indicted on an unrelated criminal charge (unethical bioengineering of Pokémon) and vanished into hiding. Nonetheless, the criminal campaign caused a massive stir.

Then… that day… happened. The World Championship crisis.

After that, the national governments took action. They threatened to shut down the Pokémon League and ban Pokémon battles outright. Frighteningly, the general public backed them.

Goodshow lost all support. Brach, a longtime rival of Goodshow, ascended to the Chairman of the Board and had Goodshow booted. A new CEO was appointed, the one man who had the greatest reputation as a strict disciplinarian. A man who ended up ruling the League like a dictator.

Lance, the Dragon Master.

Lance did his job effectively, insofar as the job that was assigned to him was presented. He swiftly chopped the budget in half, eliminating many welfare and research projects, services and subsidies alike. Pokecenters were, for the first time in their history, made to charge for their services.

Brutally strict safety measures were enacted, shield generators were required to be installed in every gym and battling facility run by the League. Infractions were given harsh offenses: steep fines; revocation of titles, Gym Leader status, and worst, the right to own Pokémon.

Tournaments were wrung dry. Security became oppressive. The final straw came from an attempt to force trainers to register and pay taxes for each Pokémon they owned.

Tournament attendance and TV revenue plummeted. That segment of the public that owns Pokémon (about 1/3 of the whole population!) became disgusted. They began refusing to buy into the League, cutting off its revenue. Then they began ignoring its mandates, creating a nightmare for our Judiciary and Policing Departments.

Then the demonstrations, and then, worst of all, the riots.

Six months ago, with the League's reputation in tatters, everyone knew something needed to change. Everyone but Brach.

The stubborn man had hand-picked Lance and firmly supported the dragon master until the very end. Brach promised to transform the League into a responsible regulatory body- a vision far different from the Pokémon-Human promotional organization the founders envisioned. What he really seemed to want was a dictatorial group that controlled every aspect of Pokémon ownership. To Brach, Pokémon are monsters- scary, aggressive, unreliable, unknowable, unquantifiable. He didn't understand them or the bond they share with their masters; he didn't want to understand that bond; and because he didn't understand he was afraid. As usual for a man of that age and mindset, whatever he couldn't understand he needed to control.

It was only when revenues threatened to create a massive deficit did he begin to accept reality. We didn't have the reserves to absorb any losses, and our credit was trashed so badly banks were refusing to lend us money. The board revolted, and threatened to remove Brach if he didn't do something. Reluctantly, and only after dragging his feet for a month, did he ask Lance to resign. The latter was extremely angry himself, and to this day bears a grudge against the board for ousting him.

That's where I come in. With my impeccable reputation, popularity amongst the fanbase, and business savvy, I seemed like the best option for reviving the public image of the League while simultaneously keeping corruption and finances under control. Brach didn't want to hire me initially, but 12 of the 14 board members pushed for it.

I was not some passive spectator then. I'd been pushing, through the media and my contacts, for reform in the League. When I was offered the chance to directly influence the system that governed my beloved Pokémon, I jumped at the opportunity.

And so, here we are today, me leading the Pokémon League while contending with the powerful, powerfully and permanently perturbed man who did not want to hire me in the first place.

"That concludes our session today."

The members began filing out, eager to get back to their own work. The lucky and lazy ones would be heading home. Brach staid my exit for a moment.

"Gabe."

"Steve."

"I don't see why you don't trust me," I said.

"It's because you're an upstart. I can't have you running the show as you please."

"Why not? It seems my way is working."

"Because! Hmph!" He put his hands into the pockets of his coat. "If I don't oppose you, no one will, and then you'll fall to the same ape-foolery as Goodshow."

"Do you hate me, then?" I asked.

"Hate? No, not really hate," Brach said, his voice lingering, and his eyes refusing to make contact. It's like he's drifting off into thought as a means of avoiding direct conversation. "It's principle. I'm much older than you, I've seen too many times these so-called 'wonder-childs' let power get to their heads, no matter how pure they are. I had some respect for you, because of your work at Devon. Wouldn't have given you the chance if not for that. I didn't want to see you become some diva that will ruin the long term health of this organization."

Devon? Oh, glorious. Brach does not own Pokémon, he could never comprehend how historical my perfect battling record is, or how much my career as a world champion mattered to our fanbase. Instead, he focuses on my business record. Quite frankly, I found that aspect of my life boring.

"What I'm trying to say is this: I don't want you thinking you can do whatever you want and then trampling on morality and minority opinions. Someone needs to check you, and I'm the only one in the position to do it."

"So you really are blowing hot air at me out of… principle, you said?"

"That's right."

Gabriel Brach picked up his briefcase and made briskly for the exit.

"You're such a stereotypical old fart," I shouted after him.

"And you're the spoiled, snot-nosed, rebellious brat every father dreads!" came his mocking answer.